Lugubrious

Unlikely Heroes

Good to be back in business!

Unlikely Heroes

Despite the action surrounding the sandy van, Adam didn't have a very good idea of exactly what was happening until he felt the repeated impacts. From his position at the back of the van he wasn't too sure about exactly what his captors were saying, but an inkling did leak through to him: they were under attack. Adam found it ludicrous that suddenly prisoner and captor were on the same side, assailed by some unknown forced that somehow managed to be more intimidating than the men in SWAT gear that had kidnapped him. He also understood that there were more 'supers' among the people in the van -in fact, at this point he suspected that there wasn't a single occupant without powers- as well as among those slamming into the vehicle. A rising sense of worry clouded his thoughts.

However, his thoughts were quite suddenly interrupted by the upending of the van. After a bit of chaotic tumbling, in which Adam saw nothing but felt a great deal of pain, he fell to the floor in a spray of sand. The sudden appearance of light, blindingly brilliant after his extended stay in the darkness of the vehicle, only heightened his confusion. From his daze he didn't really comprehend what the others were saying; in fact, he only started to register sight and sound when the clashing of bullets against still shocked him out of it. At first, he was skeptical. He had never seen a firearm in his life outside of movies and a few police officers. It took a moment to occur to him that he was very likely going to die. When that realization struck him, he released a terrified bellow along the lights of "uuuuuh!"

In response to his panic, the sand within the van suddenly exploded outward, creating a cloud of dust around the vehicle's position that could momentarily throw off the shooters' aim. Into this cloud Adam rushed, still afraid, after the others that had left before him. Like them he headed for the thicket, subliminally hoping to find protection amid the brambles. During the rush, he dimly felt a sharp pain in his left calf, like a bug bite, but ignored it for the time being.

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

Before now Cain's opinion had been no more than dislike, a somewhat shallow, inhospitable conclusion reached out of first impression and hearsay. As the fairy proudly declared that she served one of the Goddesses, however, the mere dislike deepened into a pit of hate. He had suspected that her kind were close to the deities of light, but to hear her confirm it still somehow surprised him. His ancestors were the victims of those Goddesses, attacked and banished because they were different. They had been denied the blessing of the Triforce's golden glory while the other races were permitted to thrive in it, and as such were made to live in a separate, dark world. Now the Realm of Twilight was home, but the force of the legends compelled Cain to despise this emissary of Farore. He would be only too glad to take revenge on this pint-sized, uppity bully for the wrongs committed against of his ancestors.

However, it was also likely that Lethe carried with her some fragment of light magic that could easily spell his doom. He would have to be patient. If Lethe believed that he was on her side, there would be opportunity for treachery later. Being too kind would give away the game, though, so it would be his pleasure to allow some disdain to seep through. "As you just saw," he began, enunciating the words to give them a slight mocking undertone, "I can manipulate my hair to become solid. Once the strands glow orange, they can come in contact with things normally." He paused a moment before lying, "Other than that, I cannot assume any more of a corporeal form. Anyway, I don't think that running around and filching clothes is necessary at all. Didn't you mention that the ring causes clothes to change as well? Even if not, we could always make him into something else. Kokiri, maybe?"

He noticed that Frore was still looking at Veitaru, and followed his gaze. "Oh, you must be somewhat confused, little one. Since it seems we're working together, I might as well reveal my little secret." Once more, the Chilfos's shadow twisted, and from it Cain rose into his half-bodied form. He made a slight bow. "It is my pleasure to introduce Frore, icy warrior from the north." At this, Frore crackled loudly. "As well as myself, Cain, attendant of the Shadow Court." This ceremonial display served another purpose aside from breaking the ice; hopefully, the accursed pixie would stop calling him Emmo. He noted mentally that he would have to be careful not to be too free with his lies--Lethe knew all about his origin and the Princess, so the idea that she would know much about him wasn't very farfetched.

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

Everything's going just fine. One of the advantages of being in four roleplays is that usually at least one will be active, so I can't say I've been bored.

Pokemon: The Spectre Conspiracy

Did you say, UE, if the only Pokemon we could have are those we specified earlier? Or can we simply try to catch things throughout our journey, and leave it to you whether the capture fails or succeeds?

Pokemon: The Spectre Conspiracy

Mumbling "I was getting to that," in a sulky undertone that did not at all suit her, Jess firmly gripped the Revive crystal with both hands, for which she set down her Pokedex on the gravel path. Her irritation manifested itself in a touch of roughness, making what ought to have been ginger placement into a soft toss. Had it landed on its screen it would have most certainly been scratched, but luckily only its case hit the tiny pebbles. The girl snapped the gem with ease, releasing a spray of violet powder that settled over her fainted Pokemon, momentarily painting his fuzzy cyan coat a comical, purple-speckled blend. Nothing appeared to happen. Jess's patience, already sapped by the loss, deteriorated quickly, but before she could voice her annoyance Belial gave a squeaky cough and lifted his head. Forgetting her ire, Jess's face lit up, and she smiled again. "There we are. Feeling better, little guy?" She held out a palm to the Zubat, and he climbed aboard.

Standing up straight, Jess simultaneously realized she had both risen too quickly and developed a bit of a cramp in a hip. As such, she paused a moment longer before replying. In that moment, she considered ignoring Miu, but decided to prove she was the better person by being as helpful as possible. "Nope, just the Pikachu. I could probably help you look for one, though. Shouldn't take too long; I saw a couple of them playing around the trees when I first passed through." Though most Pokemon were unknown to the girl, she knew the elemental monkeys because a Day Care client she made friends with years ago owned all three varieties. Pansage was her favorite, since green was her favorite color, and it always gave her a clump of herbs from its tuft when she made it laugh.

Nearby, a bug-type Pokemn rested in a bush. Until now it had remained stationary and hidden in the foliage, but as some errant particles entered its air intake it felt the uncontrollable urge to sneeze. As it did, it exuded a blast of powder from its pupa, throwing off the leaves and twigs that had block it from the new trainer's sight. Suddenly exposed, the Spewpa wheezed once more and began to inch its way toward another bush.

The tiny, colorful explosion caught Jess's eye. "Hey, there's something. Not any of the Pans, though. Doesn't look very tough; I bet we could take it, huh, Bel?" After a somewhat tentative squeak from her Pokemon, Jess turned back toward Miu. "Or...we could get looking for your Pansage. Pansear, I mean."

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

After reading a few of the other surveys, I've realized that I probably cast a few of the characters, most notable Felicia and Naklov, as too good. Perhaps I was thinking more along the lines of conventions in the Zelda franchise (in which the townspeople are almost always good) and not in reality. Hmm...

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

At the moment both my characters are struck in interaction, one of the pivotal characters in which is played by none other than our swamped OP. My apologies.

Living Reflection: A Psychological Alter Egos RP

"A general tour it is," Seraph replied with enthusiasm. After making a slight bow, she turned and strode with surprising speed toward the nearest door. As the three egos moved across the marble tile, hidden designs on them drawn in a clear substance that reflected torchlight became apparent for brief moments. The stones of the walls, though congruous at a distant, proved to be very unique upon closer inspection, made of different materials and in different fashions. If either Breaker or Sonata paused to take count, they would fine a total of eleven distinct styles. One of those styles was a dark sort of gunmetal gray stone hastily and scratchily embossed with the same starlike shape present on Ironclad's chest; another bore a lilac tint and smooth, artistic carvings. Evidently the bricks reflected those who had made them, each different but all constituting in part the grand structure that housed them all. The torches, though blazing with mundane orange flame, featured braziers crafted of bronze, simple and without ornamentation.

Quicksilver Seraph led her guests through a stone archway and into a merrily lit chamber floored by forest green carpet. Bookshelves comprised a whole wall of this room, while another was dominated by a huge, unlit fireplace. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through thick, glossy windows reinforced by wrought steel. Numerous couches and tables, all spaced evenly and symmetrically, sat in the room's center. Unlike the formulaic arrangement of the furniture, all sorts of paraphernalia littered the place randomly. Books splayed open, stacked on a side table, or simply sitting with bookmarks lay everywhere. Various plushy cushions resided haphazardly across the couches, clearly moved on the whim of those using the room. Two of those room-users currently lounged in the chamber, both unfamiliar egos. One, an obese young woman in elegant dress, sat with her back to the entrance, totally absorbed in a book. The other, an old, mustachio-sporting, bespectacled gentleman with skin the color of teak, looked up from a mug off coffee as they entered and bestowed them with a slight wave.

"Here we have the lounge. Just lovely, isn't it?" Seraph sang, clearly taking pride in the comfortable chamber. "Allow me to introduce Millennium Ichor Muse, usually called Mim, and Undertow. Friends of ours who, like us, dwell in this fortress in return for service or payment to the local Land Lord, Viral Talon. There are ten of us here total, twelve if you count Viral Talon and Mouth of the Void. Best not talk about that last one. Ready to continue with the tour, or would you rather remain here a little while?

Almost no sound was made as the saber of Ironclad slid through the sand-filled bad, cutting it cleanly in half and spilling its contents back onto the sandy floor. The miniature indoor colosseum was Ironclad's favorite place to be. Like a snake after striking, the metal warrior's blade recoiled, returning to its sheath with a faint shtck. A few dozen feet away, another alter ego began to clap slowly. This scrawny, blonde-haired boy armored in leather for maximum mobility could best be described as a weasel in terms of looks, and as every bully had his or her toadies, Heat Crash was Ironclad's. Though also possessed an affinity and delight for combat, Heat Crash lacked the strength and endurance necessary to master it. Though at first a common victim of Ironclad, Heat cleverly maneuvered himself into the status of crony, doing favors for his 'friend' and generally currying his favor. In time, Ironclad had even started thinking of Heat as a friend as well. Now the two were common sparing partners, as Ironclad endeavored to improve his companion's fighting capability to acceptable level. "Lay it on me," Ironclad called, and Heat Crash plucked a slab of wood from the sand and chucked it at him. In a flash, Ironclad's claws appeared and both flew up to meet the projectile, turning it into a spray of splinters in the time it would take most egos to block it. "See?" He resonated, gesturing to the shards of wood. "Your turn."

-=-=-

"Hey, Greg!"

Still thinking about Aiko, Gregory hadn't noticed his a friend headed in his direction. "Ando! Didn't see you there. How was the game party?" The other boy, his own age and a Japan native as well as a huge video game aficionado, gave a shrug.
"Not bad. We played shooters for a while before we started in on fighting games. As usual I kicked the guys' asses. At least they tried, though, so that's good."
Remembering getting totally stomped by Ando the last time he played him in Street Fighter IV, Greg couldn't help but sympathize. "Not bad! Hey, catch you later."
"You too! See ya, man."

As Greg placed his hand on the door to his apartment complex, a brief vision surged through his mind. He saw fearsome metal claws ripping a small log into jagged shreds, savage and visceral. For a moment, Greg staggered, almost falling against the door. After shaking his head, he rubbed an eye with his free hand and entered, wondering exactly what had just happened.

Pokemon: The Spectre Conspiracy

I am anxious to see the new arrival.